


surely, this must be a dream

by defNotAlex



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Blood and Gore, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Read at Your Own Risk, a drabble if you want, elevator accident, i didn't know that tag existed.. good to know, no sexual content i'm sorry, not canonically accurate worldbuilding, sorry for yet another corpse fic! something is wrong with me!, this is a pure vent fic, though its not worth reading let me tell you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:48:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26753842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defNotAlex/pseuds/defNotAlex
Summary: strawberry house elevator accident.this isn't really.. canonically accurate, i'm sorry if that's a major problem for you, i just needed a place to vent and this is where i ended up. read the tags and approach with care, this is not about romance or anything of sexual nature. (there is no profit from reading this, turn away while you still can).
Relationships: Hinata Hajime & Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	surely, this must be a dream

up, through the opening and down. clack. up, through the opening and down. clack. a corner of the card breaks off, gets stuck in the slit of the elevator. hajime twists his wrist once again, tries the other side of the plastic card they found laying around. he pulls it down, nagito pushes against the right half of the door and it clicks for the first time.

there is rattling and stirring from the inside, but finally, the layered door to the elevator becomes slack. now that the lip of the lock is blocked, the door lets itself move back. with ease, nagito slips his fingers into the ridge and rolls the double doors open.

the inside is dark, ominous, cold. you can’t recognize the sides, only the strings running down and across that reflect the light from the ever-luminescent strawberry house.

“one of us…”, starts nagito, eying the cold abyss of the elevator housing before coughing once, twice. “one of us has to climb along the ropes to the other side.” he finishes, eying hajime and, most likely, his swaying posture. one of them needs to climb along and land on the elevator, go through the emergency exit at its ceiling and open the inner door from there to coax it back into a functioning state. kazuichi having passed out earlier, it’s now _their_ job to work this out.

there is a moment of silence before hajime yawns. _out of hunger,_ nagito thinks. it’s starting to limit his movements severely. “the horizontal one, or the vertical one?” he asks, and nagito hesitates to answer. both meet in the middle, but it’s hard to pinpoint which one actually follows the direction of the elevator.

“those things… they move up and down usually, don’t they?” hajime reaches inside and points at the vertical one. there is an eerie cracking echoing in the empty space as if something is stuck in the gears. yet both don’t mind it, too focused on finishing their task at hand.

super high school level lucky. he watches as hajime reaches further inside, watches as his palms clasp around the spun metal string, arms suddenly buckling and his cheek scraping painfully against the metal while the toes of his shoes get caught on the ridge of the entrance. limp, he hangs there, his left ankle twisting with the last bits of energy that’s left in his gut in order to shimmy its way one after the other over the threshold.

he needs the other to lift his legs, he needs nagito to help him out. “hey-“, the last bit gets punched out of his lungs as the creaking becomes tenfold. the rigid string he’s attached to moves.

_down._

hajime’s arms tremble from his grip. knuckles white, he pulls himself closer to what he’s holding on as it keeps moving downwards. the cracking sounds, close to the ones of a deathtrap, continue to echo in the open area. his legs buckle and his feet twist out of the ridge. they start to slip from their only contact to the entrance.

both cry out in pain as nagito falls onto his own knees with unexpected force and holds onto hajime’s feet, pressing the bones of his ankles against the edge of the elevator threshold. from arms length, hajime climbs along the moving rope, pulling himself up with heavy limbs. the closer he gets, the more nagito manages to pull hajime’s body back onto the floor of the strawberry house. yet focused on his only task, he fails to notice the looming threat.

hajime, now on eye level with the horizontal metal string, watches it move as well. it pulls towards him at a steady pace, whirring and scarping his knuckles as he struggles to move further upwards. a cold draft of air washes over his exposed spine, makes him clench his teeth. the more nagito pulls, the further his pants get caught on his hipbones, distancing themselves more and more from his sagging shirt.

and finally, his knees make it over the ridge. nagito throws himself forward to hold onto his hips from behind. balancing his weight on his trembling legs, the brunet hesitantly lets go of the rope and moves backward. yet just as his pelvis crosses the border, one of nagito’s hands let go of their grip, making him yell out in panic as he loses his balance. his own hands, instead of reaching forward to hold onto the string again, flail to the sides. his fingers on the left bang against hard steel, it buzzes through his nailbeds and makes his heart stand still. it doesn’t take him to move towards it again with his hand to find out that _it_ is moving closer.

nagito, who came in touch with the elevator doors that started to come back to life, let go to push against one of the sides that threatened to close up. he moves his arm around hajime’s stomach, continuing to pull him through the opening that’s staring to push more and more into his open sides, dipping painfully deep into his body with every passing second. the damaged sensors aren’t picking up on his struggles, yet that’s not what brings the actual harm.

the doors press against his sides too strongly for him to turn and slip through the open crack. the bottom of his ribcage gets caught on the metal, and he can’t even register the pain anymore as he pushes down to get through the opening, breaking his lower ribs. it’s in his last moments of panic that he notices the mass of steel that pushes against his upper body suddenly.

for some miraculous reason, nagito doesn’t manage to register the screaming, the wailing in pain and panic. there is pulling and pushing and crying. yelling. sobbing. it all goes unheard to his ringing ears.

and then, there is the very obvious cracking of bones as the elevator pushes its way into place from the left with no mercy, and hajime goes slack in his grip.

blood splatters across his face, drips down the corner of his right eye. with wavering gaze he watches through the barely open crack in the doors how the dark box of an elevator pulls up where a moving mass of limbs was just seconds ago. the rest of the body in his stiff arms drops back by a bit, and with bile in his throat nagito pulls his fingers away just as the elevator doors close around what, he assumes, is left of the hajime’s intestine tract.

and suddenly, he starts to notice the _fluids._ blood and acidic bile, pooling around their knees, soaking into both of their pants. the arm he still has wrapped around what’s left of hajime, drenched in growing warmth, is leaking and crawling up his jacket, dripping through his fingers. has, noticeably, been doing that for longer than he would like to admit to himself.

unable to grasp the situation, stress turns into anger. and if only for a split second, nagito sees red.

he tightens his grip against hajime’s hips again and pushes him forwards against the elevator doors. blood and specs of organs leave a smear on the polished metal, corrupting the view that may have just looked like a magic show if the ground was not as ruined.

it’s then that he finally registers his own voice. screaming, horrible ear piercing screaming. there is no luck involved anymore, or else somebody would’ve come to help when the elevator first started closing up. and knowing that, he leans forward, banging against the double doors in front of him like a maniac, accompanied by his very,

“open _up!”,_ and “open the fuck _up!”_ ..gracious commands. the denial now having fully kicked in, his nerves multiply. adrenaline pumps through his system from all the screaming, and with that, he pulls back the only part he has access to of the corpse.

he twists both his hands into the sides of hajime’s pants, hooking his fingers through the loops for the belt, and pulling like that. he raises to his feet from his kneeled position, squatting down from behind and leaning back to put full force into it, because, “maybe. maybe it’s not true. you might just be _hurt!_ just hurt. come _out!”_

the intestine tract rips off and slaps against the elevator, gushing blood-like fluids onto the floor, and the rest of the body falls back along with nagito who stumbles onto his ass with the force of the snapping organ.

face to face with his mistake, face to face with the severed half of hajime hinata.

it’s a lot, and also nothing like the depictions in cartoons. the flesh, the skin, it’s grotesquely ripped apart. now that it’s not pressed against the door, obvious chunks are hanging down. one dangle’s on the side, it’s attached to a piece of skin that keeps peeling off the more it swings, and numbly nagito reaches out to put it back into place, only for it to rip off and slap against the wet floor like uncooked ham.

the blood collected on the very top starts to soak back in, darker now that it’s made contact with oxygen. the longer he stares, the more holes he can pick up with his eyes. arteries and blood vessels starting to show up around the mess of bones in the middle.

just in time he pulls up his hands, reeking of piss and earthy blood, and pushes them against his mouth, because seconds later his spine moves spastically, and he’s vomiting. he’s vomiting and it’s gushing through his fingers and onto the cross-section of what used to be his classmate. slipping down his fingers and up into his eyes until he has to force them shut,

..and see black.

**Author's Note:**

> if you know me on twitter... no you don't.


End file.
